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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948881">Earlier Action</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples'>gala_apples</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>An Alphabet of Teen Wolf Crossovers [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ableism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossovers &amp; Fandom Fusions, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Season/Series 03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:01:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor likes taking companions to the planet Shan Shen. This time it's Derek who finds himself with a fortune teller, examining how a single different decision changes the course of his life, and the lives of his pack.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allison Argent/Derek Hale/Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>An Alphabet of Teen Wolf Crossovers [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/112691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Earlier Action</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I started this fic in 2017, and abandoned it for three years for multiple other fandoms and hundreds of thousands of other words. Luckily I signed up for a fic exchange that required a Teen Wolf rewatch, and a rekindling of feelings. I am extremely pleased to get this finished, finally, even if there's not the audience for it there might have once been.</p>
<p>Inspired by the classic DW ep Turn Left, obviously.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the last few years Derek’s life has changed drastically. The biggest change is obviously finding out about aliens and choosing to go with the Doctor, but there’s been others that have closely compared in magnitude. Permanently breaking up with Braeden but remaining such good friends that she’s the one he occasionally invites on trips around the galaxy. Attending Scott and Kira’s wedding and after a few joints kissing Stiles who reciprocated for only a second before rearing back and punching him in the face because Stilinskis don’t cheat. Finding out that not only is the Grey Dragon of Tuscaloosa real, but that each region has one and having to raise the three Southern dragons to stop the leviathans.</p>
<p>Five years ago Derek couldn’t have predicted any of this, so when he and Thirteen stop on Shan Shen and he sees a fortune teller’s shop while Thirteen is distracted Derek goes inside. It’d be nice to know what shockers are coming up next so he can mentally prepare for them. There’s only so much a man can take.</p>
<p>The woman begins with a generic statement about sensing a group of people with tempestuous relationships around him. When Derek points out that she should tell him, her being the fortune teller, she informs him she sees the future, not the past, and if he’d like her to narrow down the infinite complexities of his future, he should explain where it all started.</p>
<p>“Where things got really out of control is when Stiles became the Nogitsune. I think if that had been prevented, somehow, then things wouldn’t have gone remotely as shitty as they ended up going.”</p>
<p>“How could things have gone differently? Imagine it, imagine the turning point, and turn the other way. Imagine it. Imagine-”</p>
<p>Derek feels a giant bug crawling on his back and before he can confirm that it’s part of the process, he’s gone.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“She’s dying, isn’t she?” Isaac asks, looking at Cora’s pale form laid out on the couch.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Derek says.</p>
<p>“So what are you going to do?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“Wanna figure something out? Because while Scott and Stiles were out there, trying to help people from being killed, you were in here, rolling around in the sheets with the actual killer. Do you get how many people she’s killed? Erica and Boyd are dead, Cora is dying. And you are doing <i>nothing</i>! Why’d you do this to us, Derek? Was it all about the power? Were you bored? Were you lonely?”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” Derek finally answers. It hurts to say.</p>
<p>It hurts even more the way Isaac reacts. He stands from his crouch and walks towards the door, silent.</p>
<p>“I told Cora I wouldn’t leave. I’ll help the others when I figure out how to help her.”</p>
<p>“There’s no time!” Isaac stomps up the stairs and turns back, disgust and fury rolling off him in waves. “The full moon’s coming. The Sheriff and Melissa are going to be dead so I’m going to try to help them. You can sit here and perfect the art of doing nothing.” Isaac slams the sliding door shut and Derek can hear him leaving.</p>
<p>Immediately Peter is commenting, strolling down the spiral staircase like none of this means anything to him. “I wouldn’t take it personally. Anger is just a tool. He’s using it to excuse a shifting allegiance from one Alpha to another. From you to Scott.” </p>
<p>“Scott’s not an Alpha yet.”</p>
<p>“But he’s on his way, isn’t he?” Peter smirks.</p>
<p>Normally Derek would sit silently, knowing better than attempting to rebut his Uncle, who always needs to have the last say. This time something’s different. This time Derek has to reply. “Well maybe he’s not wrong. Maybe Scott’s the Alpha because he’s making moves. Maybe I should make a move. What do you know, Peter? What can I do?”</p>
<p>Peter tells him a lot of crap that boils down to if he takes Cora’s pain as intensely as he can, she’ll live. So Derek does. It hurts, it’s killing him, it’s excruciating to the point that he passes out, but when he wakes up again she’s healed. He’s a Beta, but Cora is fine.</p>
<p>He’s still panting, still trying to get used to the way things have changed when there’s a knock on the metal door. Peter goes to answer it because Cora won’t leave Derek’s side, just like Derek promised her. </p>
<p>It’s Lydia, and she wants to know where the Nemeton is located. “You don’t know where it is? But Stiles said you’d been there.”</p>
<p>“I have,” Peter grits out, “but after a few memorable experiences there, Talia, Derek’s mother, my older sister, decided that she didn’t want us ever going back. She knew how dangerous it was and took the memory of its location from us.”</p>
<p>“But then how are we supposed to find it?” Lydia asks.</p>
<p>Peter smirks at her, seemingly delighted about her tension. Derek feels differently. He already sacrificed once to the Nemeton, unwillingly. He certainly cannot help in the dark tree receiving three more lives. He decides in that moment to go with Lydia, wherever he has to, once the banshee gets an update from one of the many people frantically running around Beacon Hills tonight. Cora will understand. Cora was there, during the aftermath of Paige.</p>
<p>In the end, and fairly unsurprisingly, he ends up at Deaton’s office. There are three bathtubs set up, and for lack of a better task Derek starts filling a tub with ice. According to Deaton, if Scott and Allison and Stiles temporarily sacrifice themselves they can get directions to the Nemeton, essentially, and avoid the permanent sacrifice of their parents. Derek desperately wants it to work. He knows the pain of being parentless, and all three of these teens stand to be as alone as he is if Jennifer goes through with her murders.</p>
<p>“Alright, what did you bring?” Deaton asks, once he’s done adding the special herbs to the ice water.</p>
<p>Stiles has his dad’s Sheriff's badge. Allison has a ceremonial bullet. Scott has his mother’s watch. Each tightly clinging to their token, Deaton begins to go over how someone will hold them under water until they essentially die, and then be a tether to bring them back. </p>
<p>Isaac takes an apologetic step towards Allison before Deaton commands him to stop. “Go with Scott. Lydia with Allison. Derek with Stiles.”</p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“It’s the best of what we’ve got,” Deaton replies.</p>
<p>Derek watches Stiles walk to the middle of the tubs, stripping off his jacket as he does. He can’t deny that Deaton’s right in all three accounts, Scott and Isaac’s Alpha/Beta brotherhood, Allison’s and Lydia’s friendship, his unrequited but painfully obvious feelings for Stiles. He just feels a little called out by it. But there’s no time to sulk, as Isaac would brutally point out. Not with Stiles untying his shoes and tugging off his socks, foot hovering above the mystically perfumed surface. Not with the three of them plunging into the ice bath, immediately shaking with the freezing temperature.</p>
<p>“By the way, if I don’t make it back and you do, you should probably know something. Your dad’s in town.”</p>
<p>Derek wonders for a brief moment why that statement makes Scott’s heart beat even faster than the frigid water’s caused. But only for a moment, because then he has to place his hands on Stiles’ shoulders as the pale teen slides his head under. Stiles is calm at first, instinctively holding his breath even though they all know what has to happen next. Then he runs out of air, and begins to struggle. The clinic fills with the sounds of three bodies kicking and flailing, fills with the smell of panic and desperation. It’s nearly enough to get Derek to jerk his hands off of Stiles, to yank him out of the water so he can heave for breath. He knows Isaac has to feel the same in the onslaught of sensations, even if Lydia can’t feel how terrible this is. Besides the face that she’s a banshee and can feel death, and how close it gets.</p>
<p>Stiles going still is almost worse than Stiles thrashing. It tears at Derek’s heart, makes his wolf want to howl. Only the fact that Lydia’s <i>not</i> howling keeps him from devolving into real panic. The longer his stillness like death goes on, the more Derek wants to scream. They’re in the water for hours longer than Deaton thought, that much is obvious. He reeks of worry.</p>
<p>Even when Stiles wakes, there’s no real relief. Stiles and Allison and Scott burst out of the water babbling about the Nemeton, where it is and how they all encountered it in the past, and yes, a part of Derek is triumphant about Stiles being alive, but it’s been sixteen hours. The lunar eclipse is in four hours, and nothing else has been resolved. He doesn’t even know if Cora’s back to normal because Deaton said it would interrupt Derek’s act as anchor if he got more than a certain distance away from the tubs. He and Isaac and Lydia have been here all night and day, restlessly picking at take out diner food Deaton picked up for them. Where Stilinski and Argent and Ms McCall are is only one small piece of a disastrous puzzle, and Derek doesn’t know if they’re going to put it together in time.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Derek is reading a novel on the couch of his silent expansive loft when his phone rings. People don’t call him when there’s not an emergency, except for Cora promising she’d call him soon, once she was settled in Costa Rica, so it’s with some apprehension that he accepts the call and raises the phone to his ear. </p>
<p>It’s Isaac. It’s Isaac, but Derek can hear Scott in the background, snarling. In the few weeks since opening a door in their minds to the Nemeton, Scott’s been like this, struggling with controlling his shift. It took guts, for Scott to admit it, considering their awkward past, and the current True Alpha vs demoted Beta dynamics, but he did, and in return Derek’s tried not to be a jerk about his suggestions. It’s important to be as non-aggressive as he can. Half of Scott’s problem has been anxiety, fear that he’s showing his shift when he’s not actually, and not once on earth has anxiety been solved by yelling.</p>
<p>Isaac outlines the problem quickly. Apparently fifteen minutes ago Stiles called Scott, voice frantic and teary. He’d said he was lost, and scared. He’d been babbling about not being sure if he was dreaming or awake, that he’d ‘woken up’ at least a dozen times already and he just wanted it to stop. The call had cut out mid sentence, and calling him back hasn’t gotten any reply. Scott wolfed out immediately from the stress, and hasn’t been able to pull it back in order to leave the house and start searching in public. Not only that, but he’s getting progressively more untamed. It’s taking everything Isaac has to keep Scott safely in the house which means Isaac can’t go searching either. When Scott’s more aware he’ll be devastated about his own resource allocation but right now he’s worked himself into incoherency. So could Derek please go look, because Stiles also said to not tell his dad, it’d upset him, and Scott lunged at Isaac when Isaac tried to look through Scott’s contact list for Stilinski’s number because not telling his dad is stupid.</p>
<p>Well no shit is Derek going to go find him. He’d do it for any of the pack. He doesn’t have much of his own pack left; Jackson in London, Isaac with Scott, Cora moved back to Central America, Erica and Boyd murdered. But his mother’s claws have told him to join Scott’s pack, and Lydia, Allison, Stiles and Isaac are all people worth fighting for. Even if fighting in this case means tracking down a confused sleep walker.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>If there’s one thing Derek’s learned in the last two months, it’s that druids are fucking annoying. Derek’s not interested in the balance of magic. Can’t abide by the give of his pack’s parents’ location against the take of their sanity. Because it’s become blatantly clear that Stiles isn’t just sleepwalking, Scott isn’t just having control issues, Allison isn’t just suddenly stricken with PTSD. They have been fucked up by Deaton’s spell. Every attempt at getting Deaton to fix the mess he made in their brains is met with bullshit speeches about balance, and trade offs. There’s the optimistic thought that not every druid in the world has to be evil -Blake- useless -Deaton- or both -Morell-, but it hasn’t yet proven true. Luckily druids aren’t the only beings in Argent’s Beastiary with magic. They’ve all been looking into alternative methods of dealing with the problem. </p>
<p>The thing is, it’s harder to do research when your primary researcher keeps having episodes of what medical professionals call pure alexia, ie: the inability to read. And make no mistakes, medical professionals have been forced to get involved. Most of the world has no idea the supernatural exists, and most of the world wants labels for why a seventeen year old suddenly can’t read, or attacks random customers in a grocery store while screaming the name of her dead aunt, or bolts out of class covering their face. All sorts of diagnoses have been made before being tossed as not quite right, referral appointments set up only for the doctor to handwave their explanation, mundane fingers of blame pointed. They’ve even been involuntarily committed, though the various expressions of the six involved revealed different levels of bleak optimism that buying into the declarations of insanity would finally be the solution.</p>
<p>The hospitalizations don’t last long. Not because they quickly regain their mental health under proper supervision and no longer need help. It’s actually very much the opposite. The first day Noah and Melissa and Chris can visit they do, and their children’s worsening health is obvious.</p>
<p>They learn quickly that Eichen House’s supernatural cells are exactly that. Cells. Scott hasn’t been permitted in general public. It’s fucking imbecilic. Any werewolf could tell you being isolated from your pack under traumatic circumstances can’t possibly help. Melissa pulls Scott as soon as she can hold his furry trembling body, and Derek isn’t surprised when he doesn’t let his mom or Isaac out of sight for days.</p>
<p>Chris too, pulls Allison the second he sees her. Specifically, the second he sees her wrists. They’re ringed with bruises. She’s spent nearly all her time restrained, and either amateurly or vindictively so, because padded medical restraints shouldn’t leave marks. </p>
<p>Stiles stays one more day. He lures Noah into a false sense of security since he looks rested, and crippling insomnia was half of Stiles’ problem. Medicated, obviously, but rested, and Noah’s no anti-med anti-vaxx asshole, Stiles has had Ritalin for the better half of a decade. Turns out it’s false hope. Turns out his roommate thinks the only way to close the open door in Stiles’ mind is to kidnap him to the basement and attempt some nails and hammer reconstruction. He barely gets out unscathed, and despite what the orderlies suggest, a simple roommate change is not the answer.</p>
<p>So Eichen House is useless. Druids are useless. Doctors are useless. And still Derek can’t give up hope. This is his pack. This is the boy he loves. They need to get better. He will find them a way, no matter what kind of unlikely allies he needs to develop.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Derek’s watching tv with a volume so low it’s inaudible to humans. When he was in New York he cared a lot less about roomie etiquette but this is different. He’s not the Stilinskis guest, he’s a man with a task. Keep Stiles in bed. Noah didn’t give a lot of particulars, most of what he relayed was misery about guilt about having to work overnight. Probably the same thing Derek’d hear from Melissa and Chris, only they’ve come up with different solutions. Derek doesn’t really talk to Chris -they’re allies, not peers- but the man runs his own business, he can alter his hours to suit Allison’s new needs. Melissa, on the other hand, has taken to bringing Scott to work with her, stashing him somewhere close enough for scenting, Isaac often tagging along. But John’s gone with babysitting in his own home, and who better than Derek?</p>
<p>Not that it’s truly like babysitting. There’s no cash transaction at the end of the night, and Derek’s in charge of devising his own house rules. So far he’s come up with four. Don’t wake Stiles up with loud noises, because he so rarely gets a healthy dose of sleep that rousing him unnecessarily is practically a crime. Don’t rifle through the cupboards. Medical and legal bills are high enough without eating the Stilinkis out of house and home and raising the grocery bill. Do not let sleepwalking get further than down the flight of stairs, and better if he stops it before he gets out of his room, considering Stiles is still putting up a fight about the supposed indignity of baby gates. Lastly, if/when Stiles has a night terror, hold him like Stiles is his best friend.</p>
<p>It’s fourteen minutes after one when a scream pierces the silence. Derek wolfs out. It’s instinct, ingrained deeper than any fleeting current situation could be. He’ll probably always wolf out. It’s instinct for a reason. Fast reflexes save lives. Still, his logical brain knows better what this is than his hind brain, and his lupine features are pulled back before he’s done sprinting up the stairs. Depending on what Stiles’ night terror was about, a werewolf might be the last thing Stiles wants to see. If he can’t make this better he can at least not make it worse.</p>
<p>Derek bursts into Stiles’ room, newly redecorated without any posters, bookshelves or bulletin boarded articles, nothing with text to discombobulate him when another bout of pure alexia kicks in. He’s not surprised to find Stiles sitting up, hands shaking in the blankets, heart racing as he gasps for air. “Count my fingers, Stiles. Stiles! Count them!”</p>
<p>If they were in public somewhere, Derek’d have to worry about helping him hustle to a private room, holding him up as Stiles staggered. As it is, Derek gets the luxury of crashing onto Stiles’ bed and shoving his hands between Stiles’ palms and the denim blue sheets. He’ll keep ordering Stiles for as long as it takes for the teen to actually hear him and follow directions. He’s sure Noah and Scott have their own versions of the act, that Stiles finds their enveloping hugs far more comforting, but Derek at least has the satisfaction of knowing he’s better than the home care aide Noah briefly hired before Stiles rejected her. </p>
<p>For the third time in the last six weeks, Stiles surges forward, propelled by his discomfort. Trembling he shoves his lips onto Derek’s. Derek doesn’t do much to return the kiss, not wanting to cross the line of enjoying himself. But under the fear sweat, Stiles smells good. And the slowing of his heartbeat back to a normal BPM is soothing to Derek’s protective soul. In a way, it makes up for how Stiles would just as easily kiss Scott or Isaac or Coach Finstock if it cut the panic attack off at the knees.</p>
<p>“I really wish Lydia hadn’t taught you that.” It’s shitty of him, to say this when it’s a rare strategy that works for Stiles, but it hurts. Stiles doesn’t mean by it what Derek feels from it. Everyone knows how he feels, has for months, even before Deaton called him on it the night they fucked up everything, but no one’s ever stated it out loud. For Stiles to do this and not acknowledge how much it fucks Derek up probably fucks him up even more.</p>
<p>“I liked it, when she did it. Better than getting out the sketchbook,” Stiles jokes, referring to one of the many failed techniques he’s been suggested for grounding himself. As far as Derek knows, only Allison finds any worth in it. </p>
<p>“Every therapist in the state would say it’s a terrible coping mechanism.”</p>
<p>Stiles shrugs. “What if I had a different reason? Er, no. I guess probably it’s the same reason, or in the realm.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know what you mean.” When Stiles is at different levels of coherence people are supposed to use different methods to get through. Sometimes it’s I Messages, sometimes it’s a blunt ‘you’re not making sense’. What everyone has learned not to do is go along with what they’re saying. For Stiles and Allison and Scott, reality can shift, and there are only a few surefire tests of reality. Placating playing along is not helpful for them the way it is for some people with delusions. It just makes the real world more confusing and nightmarish.</p>
<p>“Lydia was wrong. It was never about the breath control. It was about liking her, and the crushing reality of the unrequited infatuation bringing me back to what’s real. So I dunno, does it count as a coping mechanism if it’s really about tricking myself back to earth?”</p>
<p>Derek frowns. “What are you saying, Stiles?” </p>
<p>Stiles crosses his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits. Derek is happy they’ve moved beyond counting fingers, but is baffled by everything else. “What do you think I’m saying?”</p>
<p>“That somehow you think <i>you</i> like <i>me</i>, and kissing me alters your delusions.”</p>
<p>“Grant me the respect of assuming that when I’m not actively hallucinating I know what I’m doing and can control my own actions. I’m already getting enough slander and pity from the school board and my therapist and all the guys at the station. I don’t need it from someone who actually knows my situation. You should be better than that.”</p>
<p>“And is the only way I prove that I am by kissing you back?” Derek demands. He doesn’t know why he’s turning this into a fight, it should be the best news of his life. It just sits off kilter, somehow. </p>
<p>“I never said I had a problem with ‘I don’t like the weird ADHD loudmouth asshole guy’. I just have a problem with ‘I’m an evil defiler of the innocent, forever purified and infantilised by ableism’ archetypes. So if you’re not kissing back because I suck, it makes sense, I figured as much, it’s fine. Lydia didn’t like me, a lot of people don’t like me, if anything it’s probably better for the eyes open strategy. But if there’s a slim chance it’s because it’s ‘wrong’? Fuck off, it’s not.”</p>
<p>Is Derek still a little freaked out by Stiles using him to machete through his panic attacks in this way? Maybe. But it helps a lot knowing he wouldn’t do the same with just anybody. </p>
<p>“If I kissed you now...”</p>
<p>“I’d ask if you were having a break with reality?” Stiles jokes with gallows humour.  “No. I’d stick my tongue in your mouth, dumbass.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Derek is pleasantly surprised to find out no one of importance is horrified by their dating. Maybe in another life Noah or Scott would be upset by the age difference, but in this life, where the parents haven’t bothered to commit their children to Eichen House for a second three day hold because it’s just how they are now, and no amount of restraints or sedation will change a thing, Stiles needs the similarity of a boyfriend understanding his mindset more than the similarity of the exact same age. Noah never seems to doubt that Derek will react as a caregiver when necessary, that he’s not going to manipulate his son into things he shouldn't give up while he’s at his weakest.</p>
<p>Which isn’t to say that it’s all caretaking, that they’re never intimate. In fact, it happens relatively quickly after Derek for all intents and purposes moves into the Stilinski house. Derek does his best not to smother Stiles, who right now isn’t in school and therefore is also in the house more often than not. Stiles doesn’t seem to care though. When he’s lucid he loves the attention of his boyfriend, and when he’s mid-delusion he needs a companion. It’s not like Derek’s the only one camping out here either. Scott and Allison are over pretty frequently, almost daily. Their scents are all over the house.</p>
<p>They’re watching a documentary for biology class, Mr Aikens one of the few teachers voluntarily providing enrichment materials during a lost semester. Derek’s trying to pay attention despite the subject matter having no interest to him. Stiles needs someone to chat about the new gained knowledge with if he hopes to pass the oral exam Aikens promised to administer. Stiles is restless beside him but there’s no counting or stench of confusion. All three of them have actually had good mornings, only a brief visual hallucination from Allison, not even long enough for her to reach a makeshift weapon. They’re about twenty five minutes in when Stiles twists from the cushion he’s perched on to look at Derek. The next minute sees Stiles climbing into Derek’s lap, fully obscuring the tv. Based on scent alone, Derek knows it’s an <i>I want PDA</i> move, not a <i>reality just broke again</i> retreat to safety. Scott and Allison don’t count as mass public, but Stiles doesn’t leave the house much now. Them, or at the station, or a waiting room of the therapist of the week are most of Stiles’ current public options. </p>
<p>They make out for a bit, Stiles balanced carefully with his hands on Derek’s jawline. He’s a perfect contrast of soft and sharp, fleecy pajamas concealing a rock hard erection, hair still limp from a midday shower and the scratch of bitten fingernails, honey flavoured chapstick and the aftertaste of the antipsychotic he’s currently on. Derek loves every piece of him, can’t imagine ever not appreciating him. If Stiles wants Derek to show off his love, Derek’s more than fine with it.</p>
<p>“Derek, I want you,” Stiles mutters some time later. His courtesy volume means nothing, there’s not a chance Scott didn’t pick up on that. But Scott doesn’t look away from where he’s snuggling with Allison, and Derek’s been a werewolf his whole life. Privacy isn’t really a value he was brought up on. </p>
<p>“Lets go to your room.” It’ll be visually private, even if they can be smelled and heard. It’s the best Derek can offer. It’s not like he’s going to tell Scott and Allison to leave. They’re in rare comfort here, he’s not going to disrupt that. </p>
<p>He’s been in Stiles' bedroom a thousand times in the last month, coaxing Stiles to nap, helping him wake up from nightmares, helping him do Wiki link spirals, listening to podcasts with him as a means of no text distraction. It feels different being in here with sexual inclinations. Sure they’ve made out a bunch, but most of it is spontaneous in all sorts of spots all over the house. This is direct intent, and even before Stiles attempts to push him against the closed door and Derek chooses to follow the motion, the vibe is simmering. It only ratchets higher once Stiles’ hands land on him.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>January twenty seventh is the first day of second semester and by some miracle every underage member of Derek’s pack gets to attend. It’s not without some negatives. Scott, Allison and Stiles will be placed in Special Ed, one support worker between the three of them. No one’s particularly happy with the details. The school board initially wanted them to find alternative arrangements, worried about them ‘disrupting other students’. Luckily Chris Argent was there to step in, threatening to implode BHHS under the weight of a lawsuit about mental health discrimination. Noah and Melissa had the will, of course, especially when it became clear how desperately Stiles wanted to graduate, but it’s Chris who had the money for lawyers to back it up. Derek hates Gerard Argent with all his being, but if he’d still been principal it might have been much easier to get accommodations for his favourite granddaughter.</p>
<p>Beyond being segregated, there’s also the fact that they haven’t met the support worker yet. Mrs Fendes was recommended by Morell, her right as a guidance counsellor to suggest someone best suited for her students needs, so at least she’ll not be surprised the first time Scott goes uncontrollably Alpha, but who can attest to personality? It’s hard to trust a recommendation from Morell. There’s no love lost with her, or anyone involved in the Alpha Pack vs Jennifer battle that left everyone scarred.</p>
<p>Derek spends most of the night laying beside Stiles, awake, thinking about everything that might go poorly. He’d give anything to chuck this unknown woman out on her ear, to have a college degree in anything remotely applicable enough to have tossed in a resume. It’s nerve wracking. Ultimately though, Derek gets to lead Stiles to the breakfast table and drive him to class. It’s something no one was sure he’d get again. It’s hard to be one hundred percent unhappy.</p>
<p>As the clock ticks on, Derek once again sends his gratitude towards the pharmaceutical company that makes Stiles’ current meds. They’re not perfect, not even halfway so, but they do a remarkable job considering they’re being used to treat something Stiles doesn’t have. Now he can have an uninterrupted sleep once, maybe even twice a week. It’s another thing Derek wasn’t sure Stiles’d ever get again. However, that means when the time comes, he has to wake Stiles up for school. Five months of prizing sleep more than anything else, it seems kind of terrible to be rousing Stiles from a non-nightmarish slumber. Only knowing how hard fought it’s been can Derek bring himself to do it. </p>
<p>The roll of the dice is with them this time. Stiles doesn’t wake and immediately spin into a panic attack about what’s real. Instead he counts Derek's fingers then raises his hand to his face to kiss his palm. Derek can smell the anticipation/pride/anxiety and would love to kiss him back, would love to settle him and show him how much he’s cherished and that he doesn’t have anything to prove. But Stiles has a schedule to keep, so Derek doesn’t linger, just passes Stiles his phone so he can speech-to-text message Scott.</p>
<p>By the time Stiles is dressed and down the stairs, Noah’s made them all scrambled egg whites. He doesn’t even bother to joke about adding butter and cheese the way god intended, not wanting to rile his son up and expend his energy before deployment into enemy territory. Because make no mistake, it’s not going to be nice. Most if not all of the BH students already know, Beacon Hills is too small of a town for rumours of sudden insanity to not get around. It’s almost a blessing they’re not allowed to go to the cafeteria for lunch. It would be, if it wasn’t just one more thing that keeps them alienated. Isaac and Lydia have promised to drop by, and Derek trusts his pack to continue to do their best, as they have these last months, but it’s not the same. </p>
<p>Dropping Stiles off in the parking lot is- Well, it’s not one of the hardest things Derek’s ever done. He’s buried the charred remains of his mother. He’s driven his claws through Peter’s neck. He’s watched all his betas reject him. He’s been tortured a truly horrific amount of times. But it sucks to watch Stiles sling his backpack over the shirt and flannel combo he spent hours picking out as Peak Sanity Chic and walk away. Sucks a lot. They’ve argued on and off for weeks about Derek being a stalkerwolf the full pack’s first day back, Derek of course wanting to be in heartbeat’s range of his boyfriend and closest pack members, Stiles insisting he already has one mandated babysitter, he doesn’t want another. He also turned down Noah’s offer to take the day off and sit in the parking lot with a good crossword. Derek wouldn’t be surprised if Chris blew off Allison’s instruction to stay home. He also wouldn’t be surprised if Allison’d be secretly relieved, stumbling over him. Of the three, Allison distrusts herself the most.</p>
<p>He does, though. Derek lets Stiles walk away, and he doesn’t use his weak human senses to sneak in behind him. It’s a matter of respect. Derek might be drowning in anxiety for the next seven hours, but he respects Stiles too much to not let him do this semi-alone, if that’s what he needs.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“This summer do you want to go on a road trip?”</p>
<p>For a brief moment Stiles lights up more than the suggestion should warrant, in Derek’s opinion. It looks like pure wondrous joy and Derek is a bit at a loss. Stiles hasn’t looked like that in a while. A <i>while</i>. The only reason Derek even recognises the expression is from the day the djinn Chris captured said he could stop the nightmares. A lie, or a failure, as it turns out, the difference being only how much trust each victim of Deaton put into the djinn’s words. Then, just like in that aftermath, the joy drops off Stiles’ face. The unveiled disappointment is so ugly in comparison.</p>
<p>“You don’t mean it like how I mean it. It’s fine. It’s cool. But no.”</p>
<p>What the hell does that mean? Stiles is never cryptic, not when he’s lucid. Hell, even when he’s in the midst of a new delusion there’s a difference between incomprehensible descriptions and vague handwavery. Derek wracks his brain for what Stiles might think Derek doesn’t want. </p>
<p>“We could go to Disneyland?” Derek’s been brainwashed by commercials as much as anyone, it’s the first thing he thinks of for pure joy being denied by cynics. Derek would have assumed that a native Californian human would have already gone by now, before Mrs Stilinski’s death as the perfect family, or after as a distraction. It even looks like he’s right for a second, when Stiles laughs. But then he shakes his head. </p>
<p>“Oh man, that would be such a bad idea. I can already imagine all my Goofy comparisons. You’d probably wolf out in sheer annoyance. Besides, Allison has never really recovered from watching Final Destination 3.”</p>
<p>Derek hadn’t actually meant to include Allison and Scott on the trip he’s been ruminating about. For all that Deaton crushed them all with the same spell, they have different complications. Allison and Scott both have a harder time being in public than Stiles does. A roadtrip with them doesn’t seem like the smartest choice. But Stiles isn’t thinking of a roadtrip the way he is. Nor a long drive to a theme park, apparently. “So you don’t mean smelly, overpriced, overwhelming roller coaster parks. What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Nevermind. I already know it’s not your thing. So just nevermind.”</p>
<p>Derek decides to drop it for now. He’ll come at it from a different angle later, but these are good hours with Stiles and he doesn’t want to spoil them with a fight.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>His different angle is Scott. Derek can’t decide if that’s a weak blow or not, going at Stiles through his best friend. Is it better or worse than going through Noah? In the end though, Derek doesn’t really care. If there’s some kind of ‘you made it through a semester’ gift Derek can give, he wants to, whether Stiles passes or fails his altered courses. </p>
<p>It’s not the first time he’s needed information from Scott McCall. A year ago Scott hated him, so Derek's approach would have been antagonistic, threats thrown, aimed to provoke. These days they get along, but Scott would make the classic great stoic Alpha if it wasn’t for his condition. That kind of relationship requires a different approach.</p>
<p>Stiles is inside listening to a podcast while Derek takes a fresh air break on the porch when Scott’s motorbike starts revving in the distance. It’s one of the small pleasures Scott hasn’t lost since symptom onset; between gloves and full face helmet he can ride it safely even if he’s having an unwanted shift. Allison and Stiles have suspended licenses, but Scott’s passed the scrutiny of the DMV so far, and Derek is happy for him. He watches as Scott turns onto the street, as Scott pulls up the driveway, as he parks his bike and trots up the steps. He doesn’t get up to greet him, doesn’t posture. He’s not that guy anymore.</p>
<p>“Hey, Der.” </p>
<p>“Hey. Good ride?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, man, thanks.” Scott jerks his head up at the house. “He texted earlier saying he was gonna marathon some Last Podcast On The Left, that it felt like an insomniac night. That still the case?”</p>
<p>Six months ago Scott might have just texted Stiles about his evening plans. Now there’s no telling when Stiles can read a text or not, or if he’s in the right mind to hear a phone ringing. It’s hard to tell if it’s typical Scott McCall supporting of his friends or his symptom array and heightened werewolf tendencies that demand the presence of Pack in stressful times that has the guy just driving over in the chance that Stiles might want to hang out.</p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s on an episode about the Donner Party. You’re free to go on up. But in exchange for the information you could tell me something.”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah? What’s that,” Scott huffs a laugh.</p>
<p>Derek aims for friendly, for honest, all the things he used to never be. “Where does Stiles want to travel to?”</p>
<p>“Greece,” Scott answers immediately. “He’s always had this idea about LARPing at the Parthenon, the more friends the better. But he calls dibs on Hermes.”</p>
<p>Derek has enough of the Hale fortune left to take Stiles, take Stiles and Scott and Allison. He could probably even swing Lydia and Isaac. But Stiles had been excited by the idea of road tripping, not backpacking through Europe. It doesn’t seem like valid info, even if Scott isn’t lying to him. “Uh, anywhere closer to home?”</p>
<p>Scott shrugs. “He’s heard these rumors about this healing waterfall in Tennessee. Chris has debunked them, but Stiles doesn’t like that he never even went out to check. But it’s Allison too, right? So why would Chris lie.”</p>
<p>Derek sticks that in the back of his mind. He’s totally willing to drop a grand or two to make sure a dead end is a dead end. Right now though that doesn’t seem relevant either. </p>
<p>“No, it’s somewhere that makes him super happy to think about. But not Greece. Somewhere that we could drive to.”</p>
<p>Scott’s face pulls into a frown. Thankfully only a confused frown, not a burgeoning hallucination frown or an <i>I just lost time but I don’t know how much</i> frown. “What exactly did he say?”</p>
<p>“I asked him if he wanted to roadtrip somewhere with you two this summer. There was a location he had in mind but he wouldn’t tell me.”</p>
<p>Scott shakes his head decisively. “That’s not what he meant.”</p>
<p>Derek doesn’t growl. “That’s what he said. Tell me why.”</p>
<p>Scott shakes his head again. “Not my story to tell. Not even really his story to tell.” His expression swiftly changes from Alpha not about to let a Beta order him around to... something else. Derek’s not sure he’s seen it on Scott. “Man, I didn’t know he wanted- Why didn’t he-?” A third shake and the Alpha’s back. “I gotta go talk to him. Give us a minute. Don’t stand outside the window like a creeper, I’ll be able to tell.” </p>
<p>Derek can hardly deny his past actions. Still, it’s weird staying on the porch with Scott tromping up the stairs to discuss secrets unknown. Less peaceful breathing in the spring air now. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Days later it’s less of a cute vacation idea Stiles is hiding, more of a Thing. It’s really becoming a <i>Thing</i>, now that he keeps catching Scott and Stiles giving each other looks unreadable by people who haven’t been best friends for twelve years. </p>
<p>Derek waits until Stiles settles from his dawn nightmare, until they’re both on stools in the kitchen sharing a twilight breakfast of oatmeal, prepped in the gloom of only the slowly rising sun, no kitchen lights on. Stiles tries to insist Noah has his plain and healthy, while loading tablespoon after tablespoon of Nutella and chunky peanut butter in his own, and making Derek’s with cream and mixed berries. It’s downright cruel, considering how much each of them enjoy their flavoured versions of bland mush. </p>
<p>Derek savours the first crunch of blueberry between his teeth. He drops his head onto Stiles shoulder, tired and affectionate. It doesn’t matter that he’s tired. Stiles is <i>tired</i>. They’ll survive it together, or not at all. He says lowly into the purple morning, “Stiles, it pisses me off when you don’t tell me things.”</p>
<p>Give credit where credit is due, Stiles doesn't try to pretend he doesn’t know what Derek is talking about. “I’m still trying to figure out if you’ll like what I have to say.”</p>
<p>Derek sits up to frown at Stiles. “Don’t do that. When has hiding intell ever worked out favourably?”</p>
<p>“Well, Gerard spit up black goo and nearly died, but I can see how you’d see that experience differently.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, no shit Stiles. Get back to why the word roadtrip suddenly means more than it used to.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure how to say this.”</p>
<p>Derek maybe wants to throw Stiles against the wall a little bit. He won’t, you can’t be aggressively playful when you date a human, but he wants to. “Just tell me.”</p>
<p>“No, I mean that literally. Like Scott thinks basically any level of detail is TMI,or at least he used to, but I wasn’t born with the embarrassment gene, so I don’t care.”</p>
<p>“Just tell me.”</p>
<p>“You say that now,” Stiles mutters. Then he claps his hands, puts on a grin,and spins on the stool all at once. “So, until I was ten I didn’t know who my dad was.”</p>
<p>Derek feels like he’s been slapped in the face. The Sheriff not being Stiles’ dad ranks right up there with Lydia accepting disrespect from peers on the scale of impossibility.</p>
<p>“And to be honest, I kinda got the feeling they might have switched us out at the hospital if Scott wasn’t a few shades darker.”</p>
<p>Derek hates, <i>hates</i> saying he doesn't understand. Only in the deepest depths of one of the three hallucinating and him failing to settle them has he said it. Stiles is currently fine and stable, so Derek can phrase it more to his liking. “Explain better.”</p>
<p>“Details it is. Our parents were close friends. Scott’s and mine. Maybe not save your life repeatedly close, but my mom definitely helped Scott’s mom cheat on an exam to pass a course, and they supported Scott’s dad when he got kicked out of the house for dating this really effeminate guy back when they were all just friends. As seriously close as you can be without supernatural bullshit. Eventually they paired off. And it was cool because they still mostly double dated. Even when Dad went into the military and Scott’s dad had to go to Quantico and Scott’s mom was working brutal hours in residence they made long distance work. And this one time with the free time they had they decided to roadtrip toward my mom’s uncle’s cabin. And even though they thought they were already the closest they could be it was a crazy bonding experience. And by the time they were at the cabin... Well, to put it bluntly, it was more swinging than a playground. Without birth control. There’s this cute story about them taking pregnancy tests in adjoining stalls at Walmart. It wasn’t until my mom got FTD that they had to panel my DNA to check heredity and find out my dad was for sure my biodad.”</p>
<p>Derek has no idea where to start changing his concept of Melissa and Noah -though it does start to explain why Agent McCall is always so tense- so he focuses on the important part. “So when I said roadtrip you thought-”</p>
<p>“Let's take the only three people in the world with the same diagnosis and the man who watches over them and see if we could turn love into more love? Yeah. But I know you didn’t, and that’s why I dropped it. Except of course you didn’t drop shit, fuckin’ ex-Alpha, so now Scott knows.”</p>
<p>Scott’s shock makes sense now. Derek nearly winces. He can’t imagine it went over well. Scott and Allison’s relationship was roughly won, there’s no way he’d want to destroy that with kinkiness.</p>
<p>“If you’d explained I wouldn’t have had to drag Scott in,” Derek points out righteously.</p>
<p>Stiles shrugs. “It’s fine, knowing we’re on the same page.”</p>
<p>Another slap to the face. “What? You’re almost brothers.”</p>
<p>“No, Scott’s definitely Rafe’s, and I’m definitely Dad’s.”</p>
<p>“But you guys grew up together.”</p>
<p>“A, in different households, so the Westermarck effect doesn’t apply and B, got over the pseudo-incest thing years ago.” </p>
<p>“So you <i>still</i> want to have a roadtrip that ends in the four of us...?”</p>
<p>Stiles shrugs. “Never didn’t want it. It’s a revelation to you, not me. And Scott wants it too. But it’s the kind of thing that everyone has to be on board for, so don’t worry about it.”</p>
<p>“And Allison?” </p>
<p>Stiles scoffs. “Did the rumor mill not reach you out in the train yard? For a while I had to be Scott and Allison’s go between because of her bigoted mom. It was approximately day two when she suggested a threesome so I was getting something out of it. It didn’t happen, but it was distinctly her who said something.”</p>
<p>“Look. Stiles, I don’t think-”</p>
<p>“It’s fine. That’s fine. I told you all four have to want it. Finish your oatmeal, then I’ll find the Wii-motes if you find new batteries.”</p>
<p> “Lego Indiana Jones?” As far as the Wii goes it’s one of Derek's favourites, and he can’t stand the games Stiles loves most.</p>
<p>“Once again, yes. At least until I have to get ready for school.” Because of course Stiles can’t take a day off just because he got two hours sleep and is exhausted. If he waited for solid nights of sleep to attend, he’d never show up. It sucks, Derek wishes he could fix it. But he can’t, and pity doesn’t help anyone, so he digs his spoon into his oatmeal and sucks down a scoop.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The thing is, no one says anything. It doesn’t come up again once. And call Derek paranoid, but he doesn’t trust situations in which uncomfortable issues just go away. Life doesn’t work that way. Life works like F.B.I Agent McCall running for the hills the moment he finds out his son is permanently insane, not believing the cause is magic even once Derek shows off his Beta shift. Life works like Deputy St. Agnes comparing Stiles’ symptoms to Claudia’s every time Stiles comes to the station, despite having an MRI or five that show he doesn’t have FTD. Life works like Lydia having to justify hanging out with the ‘special needs kids’ to her elitist parents.</p>
<p>He can’t stop thinking about it, and because he can’t stop thinking about it, Derek goes to Allison. He knows Chris is at home, he’d have to be for Allison to be here, but the man doesn’t have the hearing half the Pack does. Derek doesn’t need to be worried about this likely terrible conversation being overheard. Because no doubt about it, this isn’t a topic Derek wants to discuss with anyone. </p>
<p>Wants is not the same as needs, though. If there’s a dimension to Stiles he didn’t know about at all, and a dimension to his own Alpha he didn’t know of, as a boyfriend and Beta Derek is ignorant and failing. He just doesn’t understand it. Okay, Stiles and Scott were evidently brought up on the idea of long term relationship swinging. Fine. Unique upbringings can form the minds of unique individuals. Allison wasn’t, so how does this still seem like a good idea to her?</p>
<p>Allison tosses up the balled up socks she fiddles with these days instead of the ring daggers of years past. “You might not like this answer, but it’s because I’m a Hunter.”</p>
<p>“Your parents had a lot of threesomes?” Derek asks snidely. He’s gotten used to Chris, he’s one of the few people who Derek can relate to about the specific kind of protecting his loved one needs. Victoria was always much harsher, much crueler. Derek finds it hard to believe they copulated enough times to produce an heir, never mind that outsiders would want her.</p>
<p>The four of them have all changed a dozen times since their first meetings. Most versions of Allison would get her hackles up at Derek’s sneering. This Allison doesn’t waste her upset on things as basic as facial expressions and sharp tones. </p>
<p>“That’s actually the thing. When I was a kid tv was my coping mechanism. Prior to Beacon Hills my longest stay anywhere was a semester. But ABC was ABC no matter what state. I watched a lot of those fakey dating shows. And in my kid eyes, lesser Hunters establishing favour looked a lot like my parents seeing if someone deserved a rose. I just never got over the idea that if your relationship is solid then why not court another? Impressionable age, I guess.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“If I agreed to your fantasy, what would I have to do to them?” Derek interrupts the show they’re watching to abruptly ask.</p>
<p>“The fact that you’re phrasing it like that means you don’t want to. Grow some fuckin’ ears, Derek, I already said it’s fine, everyone’s gotta wanna.” Stiles pauses the episode and holds himself taut. Voice tense he continues “there’s a word for sex via martyrdom, and it sounds a lot like rape.”</p>
<p>“No. No, Stiles, it’s not like that. I just don’t understand what you want. Is it swinging? Who with who? I’d feel more comfortable with Scott, I think.” Some bitten packs do make a point of connecting carnally with their Alpha, but growing up as a familial pack it’s never been a part of Derek’s mindset. Scott though, is handsome, and an easy Alpha to trust. “But so would you. Unless part of this is you miss being with girls?” Derek knows he took Stiles’ virginity, but there were opposite sex make outs before they started dating, and he would have had sex with Heather if Jennifer hadn’t murdered her. Stiles could be missing the taste of lipgloss. “I need to know what you need, to know if I could provide it.”</p>
<p>“I know my brain isn’t what it once was, but I’m almost certain I used the word threesome when discussing it last time. Ideally, all four of us. Of course it’d be all four of us. Which I know isn’t something you can do, so just leave it already.”</p>
<p>Derek asks what seems like an unrelated question. “Do your relatives still own those cabins?”</p>
<p>“Uh, yeah? What-”</p>
<p>“Spring break. Screw waiting for the end of the semester. The three of you, <i>you</i> deserve a break.”</p>
<p>“Well we’re certainly not making it to Cancun,” Stiles quips.</p>
<p>Rather than think about just how poorly that would go, how many nanoseconds it would take for someone to get hurt, Derek quips back “only one of us in this quartet can handle board shorts and a backwards cap. Hint, it’s not you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Allison would make a great drag king.” Stiles takes in the confusion on Derek's face and says “it’s what, six on a Friday night? Lemme FaceTime Erik, he should be getting his Sea Salted Shantel prepped about now. I’ll ask if he knows any kings. If I start to do anything weird, just hang up for me.”</p>
<p>“Before you do that,” Derek says, Stiles’ instantaneous scowl proving he knows damn well Derek’s not leaving the topic alone, “text your great uncle. Tell him you want it that weekend. We’ll all go. If something happens, it happens.”</p>
<p>“We don’t have to always want the same things to date. You know that, right? I know all your relationships have been severely dysfunctional, and I’m not saying I’m any better. I’m batshit, and I’m never getting better. It’s enough that you care about them, Der, it really is.”</p>
<p>“I don’t <i>not</i> want it, though. I guess I’m like Scott? Now that I’ve thought about it, it could be interesting. I can see it, sort of. I don’t think I’m the level of enthusiastic you are, I haven’t <i>jerked off about it</i>,” Derek leans over to elbow his boyfriend, “but I’m not being a martyr either. Just book the cabin. If some of us kiss others, or get naked, it’ll be okay. And if it doesn’t, it’s not meant to.”</p>
<p>Stiles shifts on the couch to rest his head on Derek’s shoulder. “You’re a good boyfriend, Derek Hale.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The drive up isn’t the smoothest trip Derek’s ever been on. It’s not the worst either. That honour belongs to him and Laura driving away from Beacon Hills after the fire, the car jaggedly silent. It starts with Stiles proclaiming his exhaustion, something about being so tired that if a zombie hoarde ala 28 Days Later swarmed the car he'd let them eat him, he'd just be like 'fuck it'. </p>
<p>“So nap then,” Allison says, reaching out to poke him in the left leg. Derek’d like to be cozied up with him in the back seat, closer to his scent and body heat, but once they got on the highway Allison explained she was having a problem seeing phantom hitchhikers, that not having the whole windshield to look out of would help, so Derek moved to the passenger seat beside Scott. Whatever, they’ve got a whole week at the cabin to snuggle.</p>
<p>“I’m lucid now. Who knows how I’ll wake up.” </p>
<p>Scott shrugs. “Nothing we haven’t seen before.”</p>
<p>The stark truth of it, the fact that they’ve all seen each other at their worst, is enough to make Stiles comfortable enough to slouch back and close his eyes. They’re all mentally messy people, and when you’re surrounded by other people like you there’s no need to pick up, frantically tidy and close all the bedroom doors. It’s an ugly thing to admit out loud, but Derek is relieved it’s not just Stiles who’s mentally ill. Being the messy one in a world of neat freaks would be even more difficult.</p>
<p>Within minutes Stiles is conked out. Derek’s got half a dozen ebooks loaded onto his phone. With Stiles at school for seven hours a day, there’s a lot of down time. At some point he might get a job, but he likes being free on a moment’s notice if he’s needed. It’s pleasant to read a good novel while Scott cycles through a solid playlist and Allison occasionally hums along in the backseat. What might happen in the next week is forefront in his mind, but things are hardly going to start with Derek saying something dirty to his Alpha and his one time enemy while his boyfriend is sleeping.</p>
<p>Inevitably it happens. Scott senses it a moment before Derek does, senses always on Alpha hyperdrive. The hands curled around the wheel burst forth with claws and he begins to look for a place he can pull over. A second later Derek smells the tears, and moments after that Stiles wakes up, adding sobbing volume to the scent of misery. </p>
<p>“I just want to wake up,” he wails.</p>
<p>“You are, Stiles. You are.” Derek only wears a seatbelt for the eyes of traffic cops, not because a werewolf is in any danger of being launched out the windshield and dying. He curses it as he twists in his seat to try to make eye contact with his boyfriend.</p>
<p>“You already said that!” Stiles accuses, words coming out multi syllabic as he sobs through them. </p>
<p>“Count my fingers,” Allison demands.</p>
<p>Stiles can’t do it at first, curled into as much of a ball as the seatbelt will allow, eyes gummy with sleep crust and tears. Allison keeps at it though and eventually Stiles is badgered enough to seize her chipped polished fingers and count. It helps, it always helps. Within a few minutes Scott is able to start the car again, Stiles’ hand and Allison’s linked in the back seat as Derek rests his companionably on Scott’s knee. He’ll shift back when he can, but stressing out about it only makes it stay longer.</p>
<p>Two hours later the favour reverses. Derek and Stiles are in the gas station convenience store while Scott and Allison wait in the car. Stiles needs to stretch his legs, restless, and Derek is picky about his off brand Slurpee flavours. Stiles happily took everyone’s junk food orders, and is lingering in the aisle a little more than he normally would. He’s been in between alexia periods for about a week now. It’s impossible to say how long it’s going to last, and the ability to Wiki link spiral hasn’t helped his insomnia, but Derek is glad for each moment Stiles can enjoy it. </p>
<p>They’re still picking out snacks when Allison runs in at hunter speed, the glass door slamming open nearly hard enough to shatter. “Kate circled the place with mountain ash! She’s going to kill everyone!”</p>
<p>Allison is frantic with full blown belief in what she’s saying. There are other customers inside the store whose reactions range from <i>fascinating. I've never seen a lunatic before</i> to <i>I must appear indifferent to cover terror.</i> The clerk is one of them, but Derek can smell the nerves. Derek doesn’t think loudly exclaiming Kate’s dead will deescalate the situation. He’s also not sure how present Allison currently is, if she’d even hear it. Derek tosses his wallet into Stiles’ basket and tugs Allison into the parking lot before she can reach for a weapon. Anything is a weapon in Argent hands, boxes of cookies included.</p>
<p>Once they’re out Derek works on breaking through, on keeping her safe until she can. Scott’s watching them from the front seat, shift meaning he doesn’t dare climb out into a parking lot full of cars. Allison snaps out of her dissociation the way she always does, full of apologies and asking for a status report, making sure she hasn’t hurt anyone who can’t recover. </p>
<p>“Does Kate ever scare you?” Allison asks.</p>
<p>Derek thinks about how he’s going to reply. “She does, but in a different way than you, I think.”</p>
<p>“Can I tell you something?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Derek says without hesitation. Even if it wasn’t the standard practice to keep the three of them as open and honest as possible, hiding symptoms helping exactly no one, Derek wants to know everything Allison and Scott will share with him. If this quartet is going to play out, real talk is a good place to start.</p>
<p>“Sometimes I’m glad I’m crazy. Between Kate, and Gerard, and Rudolphio, and Winston- Hell, even who I was after my mom- Sometimes I’m glad I’m not a Hunter.”</p>
<p>“Your dad still trains with you.” Derek can’t imagine not viewing any Argent as a Hunter, no matter their mental health. The more cynical parts of him might even suggest instability is good for fanatical devotion to a mad cause. </p>
<p>Allison shakes her head. “It might as well be physiotherapy. I’m not going to be field leader, not anymore.”</p>
<p>“Do you want to be field leader, when three quarters of them would be ordering our pack’s deaths?”</p>
<p>“No. That’s what I’m saying, Derek. I’m happy my life’s ruined. I’m happy I can never be what my mom wanted. Is that fucked up?”</p>
<p>“Am I fucked up for abandoning the only family I have left alive to be with a human, someone who stole my family’s territory, and an ex-Hunter? I don’t know, but I think-”</p>
<p>Derek is interrupted by Stiles jogging out of the convenience store, thin plastic bags of junk dangling from his forearm so he can hold onto Derek’s blue raspberry off brand Slurpee. “Everything good now, Allie?”</p>
<p>“Yup. Shocking news, turns out my dead and in the ground aunt is <i>not</i> about to blow up a random gas station.”</p>
<p>“Who would have guessed?” Stiles jokes. It’s irreverent, but it’s exactly what they need from each other. Derek doesn’t mind their serious conversation being cut off, not when Stiles can make Allison laugh like this.</p>
<p>Despite the various meltdowns it’s still a fun rest of the drive to the isolated camp. Derek has already said his mental vows to him, to them. For better or for worse, and his definition of better is different than most. The world is bleak, and unfair. If you don’t take joy in the tiny pieces you can, you’re fucked.</p>
<p>It’s midafternoon by the time Scott gets them to the edge of the property. The large wooden gate declares this place Caravan Park. It’s a misnomer, there are no caravans to be seen. What there are, are upscale rustic looking cabins, spread relatively far apart. Hope for the best, plan for the worst; if Scott wolfs out or Allison starts screaming it’s unlikely the closest neighbour will hear.</p>
<p>“This is all your great-uncle’s?” Derek asks as they slowly drive through the acreage.</p>
<p>“Not really,” Scott says.</p>
<p>Stiles corrects, “sort of. My grandparents started this place in the sixties. It was a real Electric Koolaid Acid Test deal. They avoided selling out as long as they could, but eventually it was make money on the property or lose it, so they built some houses. Eventually they got bought out, but part of the contract was that Cabin Eight belongs to the Stilinskis in perpetuum.”</p>
<p>Beyond all the cabins, there’s a small compound that holds the other recreations a honeymooning couple might want to attend: a restaurant, a pool and sauna, a flower shop. Allison and Scott stay in the car to check in with their parents while he follows Stiles to the check in desk. It’s the best alignment for not pressing anyone’s triggers; less strangers in Allison’s space, less observation for Scott, less alone time for Stiles to stress Derek out.</p>
<p>“The key for the Kowalcyzk cabin for Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles says once it’s their turn at the front desk.</p>
<p>“Oh really? We don’t tend to get people with aliases staying here,” the desk woman jokes as she taps on her keyboard.</p>
<p>Stiles laughs brittly. “It’s only an alias if you’re hiding a dark secret.”</p>
<p>Derek tenses. It’s a thin line between babying Stiles by taking over every interaction and heading topics that’ll lead to spirals off at the pass. Thankfully the woman laughs too. “Yeah, I guess an alias would be Joe Smith, to not draw attention. But I gotta know, you aren’t legally actually Stiles, are you?”</p>
<p>“When born with a ridiculous name there’s only one real way to combat it; decide on an even more ridiculous nickname and don’t answer to anything else. And lo, on the first day of elementary school I became Stiles, before anyone could give me shit for being Szczepan. Twelve years later and it’s still serving me well.”</p>
<p>Thankfully they’re out without much more small talk. Scott makes the proper u-turn and five minutes later they’re in front of the cabin where everything might change. It’s a wooden two story A frame with dark stone and green painted shutters. Once everyone’s climbed out of the car onto the long driveway they decide to split up. Allison and Scott decide to do the perimeter check while Derek hauls in the luggage and Stiles moves their groceries from the cooler to the fridge. </p>
<p>It’s a great looking place. Probably a little less professionally cleaned than the rest of the cabins, but the furniture is merely comfortably beaten in, and it smells decent enough to Derek’s beta nose. Hopefully nothing will chafe Scott. When he joins Stiles in the kitchen he notices the fridge covered in pinned up photos of who he has to guess are Stiles’ relatives and their close friends. Among the rest there’s a snapshot of Claudia, Melissa, Noah, and Rafe. On the counter to the left of the fridge is a guestbook, no doubt full of private jokes scrawled down for the last five decades. Stiles doesn’t speak a lot about his extended family, but he probably knows more names and faces than he doesn’t. Derek won’t ask unless it’s offered. Stiles has never made him talk about Brad or Kayla or Brian, after all.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The evening goes much the same as the morning drive did. Not the mental instability, though of course that’s there. That will never not be there, thanks to the Nemeton. What Derek’s focusing on is the intimacy. They’re sitting closer now, heads in laps and hands in hair. They’re brushing against each other in rooms that have enough space to leave wide berths. Apart from the jagged crumbling edges, everything feels softer.</p>
<p>It all culminates that night when Scott opens Derek and Stiles’ door. His eyes are glowing red and Derek very carefully doesn’t tense. It took Stiles over an hour to fall asleep, Derek doesn’t want to wake him by shooing Scott unless he has to. Thankfully Scott doesn’t get aggressive. He just stands there for a few minutes, breathing in their scents, looking at them, doing whatever he has to do to get his rising Alpha to settle. Derek’s mostly expecting Scott to leave once he’s got himself under control, but there’s nothing in him that wants to warn the man off when he pulls up the edge of the blanket and climbs in. Derek waits a beat, then two, but Stiles doesn’t wake up. It’s a miracle, or as close as Derek gets these days. Even when Scott turns on his side to be Stiles’ big spoon it doesn’t jostle the man awake. Derek takes a second to stroke down Scott’s arm, mutual awareness of what they’re building, before closing his eyes. He’s asleep mere minutes after that. Six months into this relationship his body is fully trained to sleeping where he can, when he can, if lightly.</p>
<p>He sleeps through the night, and when he wakes up in the morning he realises something odd. He can hear three breathing patterns beyond his own, not two. Arching his head up off the pillow is further proof of the obvious; at some point last night Allison sneaked in. She came in and Derek's hypervigilance didn’t ping her sudden presence as a threat. It says a lot that an often delusional, weapon welding Argent didn’t rouse him. </p>
<p>An equal point of interest is Stiles is awake. It’s one, maybe two sleeps out of ten that he doesn’t wake with night terrors. On those days he’s usually rip-raring to go, like proper sleep provides crystal meth levels of alertness and energy. This is a different Stiles.</p>
<p>“I didn’t know if it was real,” Stiles whispers. “There was nothing to read. But if it’s a hallucination it’s nice, so I didn’t need to scream.”</p>
<p>“It’s real,” Derek says.</p>
<p>“Nice,” Stiles sighs.</p>
<p>Derek basks in the warmth of a happy boyfriend, fleecy pajama pants against his bare legs and twinkling eyes looking into his. Morning breath is a very divisive werewolf issue. Some find it far more disgusting than a human ever could. Others enjoy it, just another primal sensation knocked up to the max. Derek belongs to the latter camp, thankfully, considering how much of each day he spends in Stiles bed, trying to coax him into and through a decent sleep. With Scott and Allison’s peaceful snuffles in his ears he kisses his boyfriend thoroughly. The tang of sleep is just as Stiles as red Twizzlers during studying or the bitterness of Lorazepam. </p>
<p>“I kind of want to give them a good morning kiss,” Derek admits to Stiles some time later. The bed smells better than he thought it could, all their scents mingling.</p>
<p>“Don’t wake them up. But once they are, I’m okay with it.”  </p>
<p>Allison is the next to wake up, a small stretch and yawn on the other side of Scott. As soon as Stiles pulls away, Derek arches over Scott to kiss their new partner. She doesn’t stop him before he lands, just raises an arm out of the blanket to bury a hand in his hair. Her mouth is wonderfully unfamiliar.</p>
<p>“Good morning to you too,” she murmurs.</p>
<p>“And me? Do I get a good morning?” Stiles asks.</p>
<p>“Do you want one?” Allison volleys. The yellow painted fingernails dipping under Stiles’ T-shirt to rest on his stomach say she already knows his answer.</p>
<p>Some combination of his loved ones talking and the already rising scent of arousal in the air wakes Scott. A grin splits over his sleepy face as he realises Allison is snuggling him tighter into Stiles so she can reach him. </p>
<p>“We doing this?”</p>
<p>“Think we are, Scottie.”</p>
<p>“There’s lube in the right nightstand drawer,” Scott announces, ever the helpful pack leader.</p>
<p>“Funny, I put some in the left nightstand,” Allison answers. </p>
<p>“Mine’s in the living room,” Stiles says. “Really thought someone would break during a game of Pictionary.”</p>
<p>“So we’re definitely going to-” It doesn’t bother him, the idea of Allison or Scott getting inside of Stiles. Maybe it should, maybe he should be thinking of what Isaac and Lydia will say when they find out, but the three of them have wanted this for a while now, for a few sexually tense months as Derek’s come to terms with it, and he finds himself firmly on their side now.</p>
<p>“Derek, can I watch you fuck Scott?” Allison purrs.</p>
<p>It’s some kind of telling that Scott says <i>shit yeah</i> at the same moment that Stiles says <i>hell yeah</i>. It’s enough to have Derek swiping his tongue against both of their mouths, moving from one to the other as quick as he can.</p>
<p>They rearrange on the bed then, Derek and Allison switching spots. As they cross, their boys take the opportunity to do their own like movements. They both strip halfway, Scott kicking off his boxers while Stiles tugs off his shirt and hurtles it across the room. </p>
<p>Scott stays laid on his side as Derek fishes out the thankfully unscented lube from the drawer. It’ll still smell, of course, everything does, but at least it won’t be revoltingly fruity. He’s right to action, but it doesn’t surprise him that by the time he’s in the bed, Stiles already has Allison’s tank top pushed up and her panties around one ankle. Stiles is impatient in bed, in the most delightful way imaginable. Derek pauses for a minute then, his head cranked up so he can see as well as Scott can how Stiles licks Allison’s pussy for the first time. It’s genuinely difficult to say who’s the most excited about it.</p>
<p>Derek pops the lid of the lube and slicks up, warming the initially chilly temp before daring to put his hand on the nape of Scott’s neck. His left hand strokes down the knobbly vertebrae of Scott's back, each inch of movement making Scott quiver. Derek eventually comes to rest at his ass. As Stiles moves to lick Allison yet again, sheets beginning to ball in her closed fists, Derek pushes a single finger in, only to the second knuckle. Knowing Allison -and Stiles’ bragging about the wonders of it, for that matter- it’s probably not the first time Scott’s bottomed, but Derek doesn't want to over-reach any bounds and freak Scott out.</p>
<p>Scott does not freak out. Scott actually groans, and reaches up to grab the headboard. Derek works his finger in a little deeper. Scott does nothing but take it. It’s simple enough to begin to feed in his index. Derek presses his lips to Scott’s neck, allowing this to be affectionate, be about more than sex. The residue of Scott’s shampoo and the sweat he’s beginning to bead temporarily overwhelms the sweet scent of Allison’s pussy dewing up. Turns out Stiles is an oral champion with both males and females. </p>
<p>Derek spends the next day and a half fingerfucking Scott. Time feels endless when Derek’s having sex, though he’d never say so out loud for fear of making light of the trios derealization. He’s not facing the window, he has no idea for how long he pumps two then three thick fingers into Scott. What he knows is Scott breaks first. Scott takes Derek by the wrist and holds it still with Derek’s fingers deep inside himself. It’s staggeringly hot how much Scott wants to be filled.</p>
<p>“How often does Allison fuck you?” Derek teases.</p>
<p>“Every time he deserves it,” Allison answers for him, voice breathy with how close to orgasm she is. Scott and Stiles both react to that, Stiles moaning into Allison’s pussy, Scott hitting the wall with a flat palm.</p>
<p>There’s only one way to top the pure lust Allison has created with her answer. Derek has no choice but to line up the head of his cock and push into Scott. Scott groans loud enough that the walls are almost rattling. </p>
<p>Stiles lifts his head from Allison’s wet folds to check in with his brother from another mother. “Oh yeah, Scottie. He’s really good at that, I told you he was. Isn’t he?”</p>
<p>“Don’t stop,” Allison orders desperately. Stiles is a kind soul at heart, or a slutty one, he goes back to work immediately. It isn’t three rippling thrusts into Scott before Allison is screaming her way through her orgasm. Every bit of her sounds and looks and smells like indulgence, there’s no way she can experience sex like that at home with Chris four rooms away. </p>
<p>Allison is not immediately reciprocal. Derek’s eyes are still on Scott’s hairline, but he tries to sense how exactly she’s going to get his boyfriend off. His imagination is so full of juicy ideas it’s why it comes as a surprise when Allison’s hands are on him, rolling him and Scott so that Scott’s briefly stomach to bed before they’re adjusting to their hands and knees. Out of the box next move or not, Derek can’t complain about Allison’s grip on him. And Stiles clearly isn't too resentful, considering he’s sitting at the side of the bed, dick in hand. </p>
<p>Allison begins a two pronged attack to get Derek to fall apart. The first prong is finding the lube lost somewhere in the bed and dripping it over two slender fingers so she can start playing with his rim. The second is the fingernails raking up and down his side and back. Everyone in the room knows he’ll heal from scratches a little deeper than average, so Allison doesn’t hold back. It’s hard to reconcile liking pain with all the shit he’s been through, but there’s no question the furrows are making Derek bite his lip.</p>
<p>Derek stifles a groan, pushing into Scott and moving back against Allison’s fingers experimentally. Stiles has topped enough times that Derek knows what it feels like, but this is definitely different. Stiles is usually too busy moaning and thrashing to do anything with his hands but tangle them in the sheets or Derek’s hair. It’s no wonder they haven’t ever done <i>this</i> before. </p>
<p>As Derek maintains the best rhythm he can, fucking into Scott and back against Allison, Scott’s head moves from hanging down to straining up to kiss Scott. Derek can’t help but wonder if it’s their first kiss, or if they experimented with each other, told white lies about practicing to get their first ever kiss with someone fated to always love them more than anyone else. Either way Derek can’t begrudge it, just wants his boyfriend and his Alpha to be happy. </p>
<p>The rhythm that Derek is able to develop soon has Scott gasping helplessly, forehead pressed against Stiles’ for support. Derek’s hand scrabbles for Stiles’, lacing their fingers together and opening his eyes to look at him as he touches his lips to Scott’s dark brown hair. He wishes Stiles and Allison were somehow touching, despite logic dictating limbs can only be so long. He wants to close the circuit.</p>
<p>Using his core to keep balance, Derek moves his stabilising hand off the bed and onto Scott’s cock. He strokes Scott, moves his hand quickly, wanting at least one of the boys to come before he does. It's embarrassing to be the first. Being first means not being attentive enough, which means he’s a failure. He’s long past being that Derek.</p>
<p>Scott comes groaning into Stiles’ face, mouth open and lips slack, smearing saliva all over Stiles’ chin. Allison seems to sense exactly when Scott’s tightening on his cock the most; she jams her fingertips against his prostate and gouges in her nails. It’s enough to have Derek snarling, eyes flashing blue as he sprays his seed into Scott. It’s all he can do to not let his grip spasm and break Stiles’ bony fingers. </p>
<p>Oral fiend that he is, it thrills Derek on Stiles’ behalf when Allison tugs him across the bed in a way that ends with them sixty nineing. Stiles gets another dose of Allison this way, another champagne flutes of ambrosia spilling into his tongue. Derek knows him well enough to know the sticky wetness sliding over tastebuds is nearly equally arousing to Stiles as Allison’s lollipop pink lips sucking his dick. </p>
<p>When they come almost simultaneously there’s a burst of scent in the air, so potent Derek wouldn’t be shocked if every supernatural entity in the state experiences it alongside him and Scott. The Alpha is moaning a little aftershock into the mattress he’s collapsed onto. Stiles too, is not quite done with his feelings, and is forcing it upon everyone. As he nurses himself down from his orgasm he’s suckling on Allison’s folds. The prolonged overstimulation has Allison whimpering, and he and Scott can feel every sensation in that sound and scent. It’s an ouroboros of lust, one Derek has no trouble believing will cycle into the upcoming days and well into the future. Isaac and Lydia and the parents will just have to deal. At least there’s a chance Noah and Melissa will be sympathetic.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Driving home goes far more smoothly than driving to the cabin. It hurt, a little, to leave, probably as much as it hurts normal teens and college students to leave the beach. The sharp line of an event ending, nostalgia not yet having a chance to form, it’s always enough to make a person feel bereft. But there’s a photo of them printed off from the front desk’s computer with a little wheedling magneted to the fridge, and they locked the door to the cabin with a four way kiss on the steps. Everything could have gone much worse than it did. </p>
<p>Two hours into the drive, Stiles suggests a convenience store break. Scott is happily in control this time, fresh faced and hankering for the chemical tang of sour cream and onion chips, so they all jump out of the car and-</p>
<p>Derek wakes up to the Doctor ripping the creature off his back and throwing it to the floor. It’s a giant bug, and based on the alien suspiciously running away through a back door, Derek has no moral dilemma in stomping a foot through it with all his werewolf strength.</p>
<p>“How much of that was real?” Derek gasps. He has to know, and Thirteen seems to know every species in the universe and what they’re capable of.</p>
<p>“Enough that it could have destroyed time had she offered you a choice to change events.”</p>
<p>“So that’s what my life might have been? Fucking three crazy people at the same time?” </p>
<p>The doctor frowns at him. “Do you think that’s what the other you was doing? Having sex with lunatics?”</p>
<p>“You didn’t see them!”</p>
<p>“No, but I know you by now. I can’t imagine you forcing yourself upon the disenfranchised. Not a second time, at least.”</p>
<p>Derek winces, thinking about the mistakes he made when he was an Alpha. Still, the Doctor bringing up confessed sins makes him feel better. At the point where things diverged he wouldn’t have done it again. He would have learned the harsh lessons in Boyd and Erica and even Isaac and would have walked a much more careful line. Nothing he saw made him a Kate or a Jennifer, deluding the innocent with sex. </p>
<p>“I can’t ever tell Scott and Kira. Or Stiles and Malia.” He doesn’t have to worry about leaking the news to Allison, he thinks bitterly.</p>
<p>“So don’t. But don’t hate yourself for what might have been either.”</p>
<p>Derek will try to take the advice to heart. After all, she’s an immortal who thinks of time itself as wibbly wobbly goop. She knows a thing or two or eight trillion.</p>
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